So it’s the 17th of January and I’m sitting in my truck heading towards Memphis to make a delivery of auto parts to the Ford distribution center when it hits me: Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday. How apropos.

Here’s the truck stop that I slept at the night before, IM’ing with my friend, about how she had overshadowed her message, or was it the other way around? And I shared a video of Living Color’s Cult of Personality that I found on YouTube. How apropos.

I’m sitting in my truck heading to the city where a man was murdered for speaking his mind, sharing his convictions, and speaking the truth. How apropos.

So I’m sitting on a side street, waiting to enter a facility that’s closed because it’s Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday. How apropos.

I’m now across the street from the facility that was closed for the day, trying to get rid of a trailer that’s become a millstone, like some thoughts and opinions and biases. I thought about Cult of Personality again. How apropos.

I’m still across the street, trailer still attached, millstone weighing heavily, when I spy a link on Facebook from a friend’s profile professing the greatness of a certain blog. The same blog that attacked and terrorized and raped my other friend. How apropos.

Across the street, trailer, millstone, Facebook, cell phone, yelling at a friend to get her attention. It’s Dr. King’s birthday, goddamnit! How apropos.

Cell phone and headset, in the JB Hunt yard across the street from the Ford distribution center, millstone, Facebook, and oh, did I mention the ongoing chatter of IM? Stereo blaring my iPod music, as loud as I can stand it to drown out the noise in my head from yelling at my friend. How apropos.

Paperwork and cell phone, headset and Facebook and IM. Saying bye bye to the millstone, the trailer, at least. Finally, finally, finally, I get to say goodbye to the yard and street I yelled at my friend on, because of her choice of blogs, the one that raped my other friend repeatedly. How apropos.

So I’m in my truck, driving about a mile to US-78, where there are some truck stops, to decide if I’m heading home. And I’m at one of the two, Facebook and IM, cell phone, headset, and ringing. I’m not answering/chatting with the friend I yelled at, just yet. It is, by the way, Dr. King’s birthday, ya know. How apropos.

I’m in the truck stop, in my truck, Facebook and IM and a new person appears, but not unexpectedly. So the other friend that was raped repeatedly on that blog, the new person, and I. The new person is the new friend. Wait, wasn’t there a millstone? Isn’t this Dr. King’s birthday? How apropos.

Three hours later, IM, Facebook, laughter, tears, cell phone, ringing, texting, voice mails, loud music, the noise in my head subsiding, antacids; and a sandwich, because truck stops have fast food. In Memphis of all places. On Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday, no less. How apropos.

It’s late and I’m writing, in the truck at the truck stop with the fast food. Noise in my head is gone, so is IM, music and cell phone. The love of my life has called, her good night given, I love you’s shared. All other friends gone. Quiet, even the cat is quiet. The engine runs, to keep me warm. It is Memphis in winter, ya know. On Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday. How fucking apropos.

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